


Scars

by ephona



Category: Bleach
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 08:29:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephona/pseuds/ephona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Aizen's murder, izuru Kira sits in a dark cell contemplating himself and what he had done to hurt others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars

“No! NO!”

“Calm down, Kira Fukitaichou.”

“No.  No! H-Hinamori! HINAMORI!”

“Kira Fukitaichou we need you to calm down.  Hinamori Fukitaichou is fine.  I promise.”

“Hinamori.  I need to … I need to … !”

 “Please stay calm!  We don’t need you yelling in there!”

“Despicable. I’m … despicable.  Despicable.  Horrible. I’m … horrible.”

“ … Kira Fukitaichou?”

“Horrible.  Despicable.  I … I should just … j-just … I should just … “

“K-Kira-dono!”

“Kira Fukitaichou!”

“You idiot, what do you think you’re doing!?”

“L-Let go!  Let go please!  I know what I’m doing!  Let go!  I-I order you to let go!”

“Not if you’re going to be doing that!”

“We need to restrain him.  Quickly before he causes more damage.”

“Let go of me!  LET GO! Leave me alone!  Go away! GO AWAY!”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The struggle had left many scars.  The walls were coated with them.  Scratches dug deep into the wall by nails and pieces of splintered wood.  The single chair that usually sat in the holding cell had been thrown to the floor with such force so many times that one of the legs had chipped and the entire eccentrically carved back was reduced to nothing more than an array of fragments.  Scars were also on the seat of that chair from the desperate emotions being released.  A few spots of blood sat alongside the mess of splintered wood.  There were bruises on his body from them trying to force him into the sling that restrained his arms.  A few scratches leaked blood from his forehead and chin while the cuts he had inflicted upon himself on his own arms still ached with the stinging pain of little tiny splinters.

But there were more scars on his heart.  More scars than he could probably count.  More scars then the scars on the wall.  Much more.  So much more.  He pressed himself into a corner as the events from the past few days flashed through his mind again.  What had he done?  What on earth had he done?  Images came back as glimpses of red blood running down the side of the white tower and her distraught screams that turned into rage.  Bright red fire flying towards him as his own silver blade blocked the oncoming ball of destruction from hitting his own Taichou.  The clashing and clanging of blades.  His blade.  He took in some deep breaths, sweating and shaking, as he purged the images from his mind, his fingers tightening into fists that he couldn’t use. 

“I … I held my sword against Hinamori-san.”  He stared at a large wood splinter on the ground in front of him, tears starting to pool on his eyelid.  “I’m … I’m despicable.  Right.  I-I’m despicable _.”  I caused Hinamori to cry_.  “Despicable.”   _I fought her.  I went against her._   “Despicable.”   _I let everyone down.  I let myself down!_  “Despicable.”

_I’m a despicable person … why am I still alive?_

He jumped out of his own mind when he heard a crash coming from down the hallway.  A crash.  Then yelling and screaming.  The guards.  The guards outside his cell were being attacked?  He pushed himself up further into the dark corner of his cell, his pupils widening in fear as he heard them choke and fall to the ground.

“W-Who’s there?”  He shook like a twig, watching the entry door from the hallway to where he sat imprisoned.  There was another screech of struggle before yet another body fell to the floor.  Someone was coming.  To attack him?  Was it the person who had murdered Aizen?  Was he next?  The soft footfalls of a pair of sandals came closer.  He pressed himself closer to the scarred wall as he heard a voice.

“My, my!  Ain’t this horrible.  So very horrible indeed!”

 _T-that voice._    _No …_  He felt like his neck was locked shut as he forced himself to turn and look at the dark shadow of a man coming towards him.  As he walked into a patch of light, he froze up in shock.  The man’s tall, pale visage cloaked in silver hair, a captain’s robe and a cold smile was unmistakable.  Especially to him.

“I-Ichimaru taichou.”

“ ‘Ey, Izuru.” Ichimaru Gin’s fox-like smile widened as he waltzed right up to the cell bars.  “Been a while, hasn’t it?  Ya look so frail … ya poor thing.”

His lips were frozen shut in shock and fear.   Gin’s sharp, slanted eyes seemed to stare right into his soul as if he was reading it.  He’d fought Hinamori protecting him from her.  He was the reason he fought her.  But if he didn’t step in, he would have been hurt, right?  He would have done his duty as this man’s Fukitaichou.  Who was he really?  Why was he here?

And why was he so relieved to see him?

“ ‘ey Izuru,” His slender fingers gripped one of the iron bars, his words slithering into his ears.  “Want me ta save ya?”

He hesitated for a moment.  Gin was here for him.  To rescue him.  But he couldn’t tell if his wings were white or black. 

Maybe, for all he knew, they were red.  Like blood.  Like his arms.  Like his scars.

“Come with me, Izuru.”


End file.
